


Don't want to need you

by orphan_account



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Break Up, Slight bottom!Stiles, mentions of past non-con, references to non-con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-30
Updated: 2014-03-30
Packaged: 2018-01-17 14:27:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1391113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>But I'll probably never stop</p>
<p> </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Stiles come back to Beacon Hill for the weekend after a hookup gone wrong</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't want to need you

**Author's Note:**

> Non-con elements aren't shown in the fic but they are mentioned. I will put a short explanation in the end notes so if you're unsure please read them. Also- let me know if tags need to be changed/added

It wasn’t just because he as alone. He was lonely. He was alone and he was lonely and he missed Derek and he wanted something, _anything_ to make him forget the too rough hands of his last hookup. It was almost ironic, that he’d slept with that guy in hopes that it would help him stamp down these traitorous feelings and now it was the last night of his three day visit and he hadn’t even _seen_ the werewolf and all he wanted to do was crawl into his arms and feel his gentle hands and kiss him until he forgot the hard press of a hand on the back of his head and unfriendly bite on his neck. He needed Derek. After almost two years of being broken up, for the first time he wanted to let himself feel. He wanted to lose himself in the tidal wave of love he had for Derek even though he couldn’t touch, couldn’t kiss. If only to replace one painful memory with another.

_It’s my last here night until summer_ he texted. It took nearly ten minutes of pacing and checking his phone before he got a response.

_I can’t come tonight. We can Skype when you get back tomorrow._

God, he cursed the day they installed Skype on that archaic laptop. (That was a lie, they chatted every week) It wasn’t good enough this time. He needed Derek _now, tonight_. He needed to be distracted in the worst way because no matter how much it would hurt his heart, the memory was still too fresh.

_Not good enough._

_Well what do you want me to do? I_ can’t _tonight.  
_

_I need you._

It was a hard thing to admit but it was the truth and he knew Derek; he’d drive down to San Francisco of Stiles said he needed him. Hell, he’d fly to Boston if Lydia needed him (but Lydia didn’t need anybody).

_Give me 20_

Relief lessened the tension in his shoulders but he couldn’t stop the pacing. This was the first time he’d been alone since the long drive up but he’d still been in a bit of a daze then. He thought he was ok with it, and when he realized that he wasn’t he got drunk with Scott and Isaac. And the next night he’d gotten drunk with Erica. He didn’t want to do that again. All it did was leave him numb and hungover.

The minutes ticked by with his heart beating his anxiety into his ribs. He was almost shocked when the window was flying open and Derek was swinging in. The comfort Stiles got just from seeing that grumpy face was embarrassing. Derek stayed standing on the opposite side of the room. It was for the best. Stiles felt a little better just seeing him. He thought that maybe Derek would be pleased to see him now that they were doing a decent job of being just friends, but the frown never left his brow.

“You smell like makeup.”

Shit. Yea, so he hadn’t been this covered in hickeys (bites) since the last time they’d slept together. He should have known Derek would notice something like that. He had to hold himself back from rubbing the marks self-consciously.

“It’s nothing. I just… I needed to see you. And here we are! Me, seeing you.” He had no clue what to say, how to explain _why_ and keep him from leaving sooner than Stiles was ready.

Derek crossed the room the way a wolf would hunt, with precise steps, squared shoulders, and intense eyes. Eyes that flashed red when they were arm’s length apart.

“You’re scared?” He was sure but confused. Stiles shook his head vehemently. He _wasn’t_.

“No,” he argued lamely. He ignored the way Derek’s eyes flicked to his chest and back. “I just needed to see you. I needed…” What did he need? Did he need to sleep with Derek? Did he need to break their delicate friendship because he had made a stupid decision?

There was a moment where Stiles stayed impossibly still as Derek reached up to take Stiles’ head between his hands- gently always so fucking gentle- and tilted it to the side. His nostrils flared.

“You slept with another werewolf,” he muttered. Stiles didn’t need supernatural senses to know when something upset him. He knew Derek.

“Not on… purpose?” he excused lamely. Derek waited for him to go on, face stony. “It was one date. I didn’t know he was a werewolf until… I mean, it’s not like I hadn’t… I didn’t say _no_ when we started. It just got… a little out of hand later.” Oh god, were his hands shaking? His hands were shaking. But it wasn’t a big _deal_. He was being so stupid. He’d left the bar with the intention of sleeping with the guy; it just wasn’t what he was used to. It wasn’t what he liked. Ok, it was pretty fucking far from what he liked.

For the first time since high school, Stiles heard Derek growl. It made him jump, which made Derek clutch him harder, just this side of tender.

 “He did it on purpose. Smelled the pack on you- in your clothes.”

 Stiles wanted to laugh, he really did, that he chose that night to wear the cardigan he’d nicked from Isaac (it was what they _did_ , ok?)

 “You smelled like a pack that he didn’t recognize. Probably a cheeky beta trying to-”

 “Oh my god, Derek,” Stiles interrupted, starting to feel frantic. “Is that supposed to make me feel better? Are you fucking kidding me? I just wanted to see you; I didn’t want a play by play of my stupid decision.”

Derek’s face finally slid from stony to almost annoyed. Stiles knew better than to think he really was. The hands on his face slid to his shoulders, big and gentle and squeezing and just enough to keep Stiles grounded. He stared for a long time, just looking into Stiles’ eyes as if they would give him the right thing to say. Stiles wasn’t sure he wanted to hear anything. He wanted more than Derek could give. He wanted to replace the feelings of too rough with too gentle. He wanted what they used to have. He wanted Derek. All of him.  
  
“Shit,” he cursed with a quivering voice, eyes rolling up to the ceiling to stop the tears. “Shit, I’m being so stupid. This is all so stupid. I shouldn’t have asked you to come. I’m sorry.”

 “ _Stiles_.” His name was said with so much force that he looked back down. Derek cupped his ears, cradling his head the way he always used to. His eyes were soft, open, pleading. “What do you need?”

 He shook his head but the hands didn’t falter. “You can’t give me that,” he whispered, voice low to hide the crack that was sure to be there. “I just wanted to see you. That’s enough.” Derek leaned in until their foreheads touched, eyes squeezing shut against the truth. He couldn’t. They were barely getting by as it was. He couldn’t.

 “I miss you.”

 Air became scarce at the quiet confession. Stiles sucked in fast shallow breaths, clutching at the leather jacket that held so many memories and rubbing his head into Derek’s.

 “You can’t just say that. You can’t, you can’t,” he chanted.

“What do you need?”

 “You can’t, you can’t.”

 “ _Stiles_.”

 He surged forward, sob caught in the back of his throat, and slanted their lips together. He hated himself for it but it felt so _right_ and he was selfish and upset and he wasn’t going to pull away unless Derek made him.

 He didn’t. He kissed back as gentle and solid as always, hands lacing into his hair. He chased away the memoires with his lips, replacing them with a dream Stiles wouldn’t soon forget. When he broke the kiss, it wasn’t to do the right thing and go back home and pretend this never happened. He kept his mouth at the corner of Stiles’.

 “What do you need?”

Stiles couldn’t say the word, just one syllable. His throat was too tight and his eyes too wet and his heart too broken. He pulled Derek in with the jacket and slid his hands underneath to clutch at the soft shirt below. With a _thud_ the jacket fell to the floor and Derek was kissing him like he needed him. He let Stiles undress him and ran his hands over the marks on his neck. He kissed away the memory of too much teeth and massaged away the press of the hand on the back of his head. Rough became gentle, sloppy turned into practiced, dominance became equality, anxiety became _want_ until Derek was pressing into him so carefully he thought he might lose it. He held on, clawing and writhing when the werewolf let out a soft chuckle right in his ear and pushed in again. It was like they’d never stopped, like they were still _Stiles and Derek, Derek and Stiles_.

 He let himself fall in love again.

 In the morning, Derek was gone but his jacket was draped over Stiles bare chest.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Some days prior to the fic Stiles hooked up with a person in what started out as consensual sex but did not remain so in that it got too rough for his liking. It doesn't go into great detail but there are some minor details mentioned in passing.


End file.
